


The Nation Chronicles

by eloquentelegance



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-23 20:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloquentelegance/pseuds/eloquentelegance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the leaders of the nations deemed the current events far too important to be left alone and forgotten. They began to hire scribes. Their sole purpose was to follow their respective nations, recording the occuring events exactly as they occured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

History has always been subject to interpretation, and often times, what actually happened, the meaning, gets lost in the debate. Drowned in the millions of tiny little details, that while significant, only serves to hide the bigger picture.

I am a scribe. My job is to prevent history, the true history, from fading. My job is to observe my surroundings and jot them down in my notes. My job is to stalk one Alfred F. Jones.

I am a scribe.

This all began perhaps when Franklin Delano Roosevelt, or maybe Winston Churchill, or maybe Joseph Stalin, hell, it could've been Adolf Hitler, but somebody, somebody important, decided that there needs to be some sort of archive. Somebody needed to chronicle the times. But it wouldn't be just an ordinary record. It needed to get the current events perfectly and who else could provide a more accurate view of the world at large than the nations themselves.

Of course, it all began as a diary keeping project for the nations. But no, the nations were simply too involved in the affairs to truly get a clear picture. So they hired scribes. Someone who could step out and look at what was happening from a third-person point of view. Someone who could see the bigger picture, pick up what the nations might not have seen on their own.

And so here I am. About 70 years later, hired as a scribe.

Somewhere along the way, the leaders allowed the nations to hand-pick the scribes themselves. That way as to totally avoid some really awkward moments. Cause I mean, if you have to pick a stalker, it might as well be someone you like.

I still have no idea how I got picked of all people. And I'm not about to ramble on telling you how I got the job. First, it would be boring. Second, I would be slacking off my job because, well, this isn't about me now is it? All you need to know is that, one day I met a blond dude, called himself Alfred and through a series of events, I learned of his true nature as America. And it had just so happened that his previous scribe had retired, and you can take it from there.

It's a pretty fair job. I mean, it pays well enough. We get days off too. We're not hand-cuffed to our nations. We can have completely seperate lives because for the most part scribes are only there during world conferences or during really big events like let's say the Olympics.

That's a one of the many perks of the job. I got to follow America to Vancouver, meet up with his brother and all the other nations. Enjoy the Olympic games while babysitting my country.

Alfred was practically oozing joy with all the medals he got. He even stood up against the Scandinavians in Nordic skiing. Norway wasn't too happy about it, and neither was Sweden, or Denmark. And it didn't help that America rubbed it in their faces. He just got so excited that he had to ramble on and on.

Poor guy still wonders where that giant snowball came from and how it flattened him like one of Canada's pancakes. Cause the thing had hit him dead on, not just a graze, but literally bulldozed him over. That had like a billion to one ration in actually happening. Technically impossible.

I'm guessing Norway had something to do with it because he walked away from America smiling.

There were some down points, like when Canada won the hockey match. The scribes were having a bet. Out of principle I betted on America, while the Canada scribe betted on Canada. I lost my paycheck but I got to watch as England forcefully dragged America to the celebration party. I have never seen Canada so angry, frustrated, shocked, excited, happy, or loud. Canada, from what I've seen, is a fairly quiet person so this whole new side of him was a surprise.

France and England sure had an eye opener, with the way they were staring at Canada, all wary like, as the kid pounded at the plastic panels bordering the rink. In their defense, he was getting pretty frightening. But of course not as scary as Russia bearing down on America, chanting kolkolkol after Evan Lysacek won. America, being America, didn't back down and it would've erupted into a fistfight if Japan hadn't interfered.

Although nobody stopped Canada and America during the closing party. Once America was finally forced into the little celebration, he and Canada got into a shouting match. They took it outside and just let a rip. The nations figured they should let the boys get it out of their system so nobody stopped them.

Overall though, it was pretty fun. I mean, the nations throw the best parties in the world. They've lived centuries, they know how to get down and shake it. I may or may not have sneaked off to do a little sight-seeing (if you know what I mean). But I do feel sorry for the Canada scribe. Poor girl was absolutely frazzled with all the problems Canada had to deal with. Not that she did anything, but apparently just watching Canada do all that work was tiring enough.

See, that's what we are. We observe. We watch. We record. We try our hardest to interfere as little as possible. We're scribes. We're just here to take notes.

Some of the friendlier nations befriend their scribes. Venice of Italy is a friendly nation by nature and befriending his scribe is an absolute must. And then there are some nations that keep their scribes at an arms length, like Germany. They just set up appointments and the scribe comes by, takes notes, and leaves. The nation and the scribe live in totally different spheres. My nation, America, leans more towards Italy-like relations. He's a puppy like that, always craving attention. But if he calls me in the middle of the night screaming about Tony or scary movies one more time...

I guess you could say we're friends but that's a stretch. I'm just doing my job. We're like co-workers but at the same time not. Because all this observing leads us to learning about the nation, probably more than the nations knows about himself. But hey, that comes with the job description. We're here to be the second pair of eyes to pick out all the things the nations can't see.

And you know, with all the time spent together, scribes often eventually befriend their nations. Attachment is created, and when disaster strikes, whether a scribe is called to work or not, the scribe will be there at the nation's side. Which is sweet. except for the amount of paperwork the scribe has to finish to report what the nation's status is. Because attachment or not, the job still stands.

We are scribes. We are here to record the events around us and make careful observations on our country.

But then there are some scribes that go above and beyond the call of duty. There's been one scribe that's been making a name for himself. And since he hasn't been fired from his job yet, I guess the nations are okay with what he's doing. You might recognize him. You might not. But online, where he publishes his work, he's gotten popular. You see, he takes what he learns as Japan's scribe and turns it into little comics. People apparently love it and he's become an internet sensation. But he's still a scribe though no matter how many fans his comic gets.

I've met him a few times. He's always beside Japan. Scrawny dude, looks like Estonia.

I am, of course, talking about the one and only Hidekaz Himaruya.


	2. Chapter 2

The thing about nations is that they always look different to someone else. I could tell you that America is actually more of a dirty blond with tanned skin. But you could tell me, he's definitely black with a shaved head. You could even tell me America is a woman. The thing is nations represent people. They aren't human. They never have been and they never will be.

There is an echo in there, of an individual of a person who lives apart from the people they represent. But it is an echo. It's a personality borne from years and years of memories, the way a computer might gain a personality if you input it with enough coding. There is an Alfred and he's a geek. He loves superhero comics and is an ardent Trekkie. He works out daily and eats burgers by the tons. You see him running up and down the White House halls. But he is just one facet, one face, of a nation.

That was the face Himaruya saw when he came here to the United States. That is the face he drew and published. But I have seen America slip out of that face as easily as one slips off a shirt or a pair of pants. I have seen him with his boys and girls, in the dust of deserts and against the background of bombs. I have seen him with his boys and girls, in classrooms amongst crayon drawings and half-legible names. I have seen him in cafes and conventions and computer labs and corporate offices.

Because this is what a nation is. He stares out at me through baby blue eyes and dreamer's smile because that is the America I want to see. Because he easily weilds a gun as well as he can a stethoscope. And often, I look at others and I wonder what they see. I wonder if they see youth or age. I wonder if they see him walk in confidence or limp out the door.

The thing about nations is you could've met them. You could've bumped them on the street, waited in line behind them in a grocery store, or sat with them on the bus. The thing about nations is you would never give them a second glance. They blend into the scenery, at home in a train station as they are in the Oval Office. They belong you see and why wouldn't they? You live in their bones, in their blood, in the breath between each pulse. You could very well look at them and see your face staring right back. For you are theirs as much as they are yours.

The thing about nations is they are everyone and no one all at once. You could've met them, you probably already have. You just didn't know.

Author's note:

I once asked America what he saw when he met up with other nations. If nations shifted shape and skin with every unique view, what form would nations see? Nations are compromised of millions of unique views and countless varying opinions. How would they see each other? What do nations see?

And America just smiled and told me.

"Family."


End file.
